


You Did, Once

by thesm0lbean000



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: ARGUS, Battle, Death, Demon, Draenei, Eredar, Legion - Freeform, OC, Oneshot, Own Character, Paladin, Vindicator, War, World of Warcraft - Freeform, hero - Freeform, lightforged, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 19:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesm0lbean000/pseuds/thesm0lbean000
Summary: Demons all begin to look the same after you kill enough of them. Ladoranna just wished it wasn't her sister staring back at her from the other side of the battleground.





	You Did, Once

Demons all begin to look the same after you kill enough of them. It matters not of their colored skin or eyes - it is their expressions; the way they hold themselves, heads high and shoulders broad. Their hands are easily spotted, constantly at the ready with the weapon of their choosing or their tainted magic, and upon their face, in the depths of their gaze, their lips tugging upward in the faintest smirk, they need no words to relay their message: The Legion defines them. The Legion will rule all.

That is the expression of Mistress Attumhe as she lay, broken and battered, upon the dusty terrain of the battlefield. For a planet with no visible sun in the sky in comparison to darkened green clouds, Argus felt hotter than usual… perhaps the demoness was feeling the sensation of the crimson that poured from the gaping hole in her torso at an alarming rate, or perhaps she was feeling the beads of sweat that trickled down her temples to glide along her neck. Or, perhaps, she was feeling the heat from the angry stare of the woman who loomed above her. A Draenei and a demoness, side by side, so different in color, yet their resemblance was strikingly similar. They both resembled the same sized horns, the same sharp hooves. One blue spirit. One red.

For a long while, their gazes held each other as they remained idle. Blood stained their armor, their marks scattered along the tainted soil of the dusty floor. Cuts, gashes, and bruises covered the two women from head to hoof, hair matted, bones broken… their battlefield, however, had become a deathbed - and they both knew it all too well.

“It comes to this.” Mistress Attumhe’s words dripped from her lips like a faint trickle of water that can’t quite become a stream. Her tone, though an edged whisper, was still laced with pride. The green of her eyes stared dimly up at her company - her death bringer, her downfall… her best friend. “I never stood a chance, did I?”

“That is the terrible part, dearest sister,” The vindicator managed to utter her words through her heavy panting as she leaned heavily against her golden greatsword, which she had stuffed into the soil beside her. Despite the heat of the battle, the abhorrent circumstances that had befallen them, her own tone was filled heavily with sorrow, “You did, once.”

For a while, they sat in uncomfortable silence. seconds seemed to pass by like hours, and yet, time wasn’t an ally. The red skin of Mistress Attumhe lightened to a rose-like hue as blood continued to seep from her body. Every breath she took grew slower, more ragged… each second that crawled by became more of a struggle for her to stay alive. For now, she and the other could only simply stare. Their eyes roamed the figure of their company as they took in each other’s appearance. So very different from years upon years ago.

The victor breaks the silence.

“Do you remember our childhood?” A small, sad smile crept along the Lightforged Draenei’s face as she gazed down at her dying kin. “We would run through the village… waving sticks as swords. We would pretend to defend the planet our parents ran from before we were born, and use the ‘Light’ to bless our playmates during faux battles. At such a young age, we vowed to someday devote our souls to the true Light. To become all things good,” Her smile slowly fell as she drifted a hand to her wounded side, eyes still lingered upon her sister as she whispered, “just as Mother was.”

Mistress Attumhe’s paling green gaze roamed her sibling’s figure, still, as she lay in quiet contemplation. The expression upon her face momentarily flickered to something unsure. Perhaps a moment of clarity… a series of thoughts drifting across her mind like a sailboat on a gentle sea…

The expression passed as quick as it appeared… and the demoness began to giggle. The harsh, curdled noise that escaped her soon turned into desperate, heaving gasps for air as the woman broke into hysteric laughter, amusement bubbling from her gaping chest without relent. The Lightforged’s eyes narrowed, her stance quickly shifting to one of caution as her fingers wrapped tighter around the handle of her blade again. Mistress Attumhe peered up at the victor of their fight and grinned.

“Your Light will abandon you… Vindicator Ladoranna…” Attumhe sucked in a sharp, pained breath, her laughter turning to rasped gasps, “I shall always serve… the Legion…”

A moment passed as rage quickly began to fill Ladoranna, and death’s door could not have arrived quicker for the mistress at her hooves. The Lightforged yanked her blade from the soil as if it weighed nothing, her teeth grit as she raised the greatsword high above her head, and with an anguished scream, a blur of gold plummeted through the air until it sharply pierced the skull beneath her in a horrendous crack. At once, the laughter stopped.

The vindicator panted heavily as she stared down at her latest kill, her hands trembling around the handle of her weapon. “Pheta… thones… gamera…” She managed. There came no response from the body beneath her. The battlefield sat in silence. Slowly, the Draenei pulled her blade from the skull of the demoness, and shakily retrieved a clean cloth from her belt. She took the cloth to the tip of her blade, clearing the steel of heated liquid… and as she did so… caught sight of her own reflection in the shimmering glow of the sword. It was only then that Ladoranna noticed of the tears that trailed down her blue cheeks to drip to the ground beneath her, adding an odd, cool sensation to her warm skin. She uttered a curse beneath her breath and tossed the cloth aside before wiping at her eyes with her hand.

“You do not deserve tears.”

The battlefield still sat quiet. A moment of peace through the heat.

Until the silence dispersed to noise again.

Shouts, screams, and battle cries filled the air. The vindicator picked her head up to take in her surroundings, gold gaze scanning the rough, rocky terrain that sat around her. Left and right charged her companions - loyal soldiers of Azeroth and soldiers of the Light, blades and guns gripped tightly in their hands as they advanced toward their enemies. At the same time, lost souls devoted to the Legion shrieked demonic war cries as they added to the flames of battle. There was no mercy, no relent, no hesitation as swords clashed and bodies began to fall - and it served as a great reminder of the ongoing battle that was far from finished. The war that never seemed to end. Ladoranna spun her blade in her hand once, twice, three times, and looked back to the woman at her hooves. Beneath her, there no longer lay the sister Ladoranna spent her childhood with. There no longer lay the woman the vindicator once lost and never found again. There was just the mistress… and to the vindicator… that meant one less threat left to a world she’s meant to defend. Rid of hesitation, the Lightforged soldier gave another cry and turned, hooves clacking against the ground as she ran off to kill her next demon.

They all begin to look the same after you kill enough of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my MoonGuard role play characters on World of Warcraft is Vindicator Ladoranna, another character I created when I re-joined the game mid-Legion. Ladoranna is another one of my pride and joys.


End file.
